Ever After
by pinkaffinity
Summary: Makorra: They were made for each other.
1. Fantasy

a/n: This will be all my Makorra week nonsense. I thought it obnoxious to make them all separate stories, seeing as how I'm posting these so late. ^^; Enjoy!

Mako smelled very human.

It was a hard scent to describe, but it was perfect, and she smelled it on him when he stood so close to her, close like he did now, when his face was inches from hers. They stood on the hill, their hill. It was where they always met when she couldn't resist temptation and she flew down from the heavens to see him before her, to see him real and breathing. She shouldn't have come, but she did. So she stared into his soul, saw his past yet again, saw all his fears and hopes and dreams swirling in the golden flecks of his eyes.

All humans fascinated Korra, but this one was special.

He was hers, but only half so.

Her hand rose up, hovering in the air. Her fingers were quivering for she had to be so very careful. Humans were fragile.

"I want to touch you," she whispered.

"I want you to touch me."

She bit her lip. "But I'll kill you if I touch you. You know this."

"It's killing me that you're not."

When she looked at him now, she did not see anything but pain, dark and cloudy. She felt his ache roll through her spirit, and she looked to the side. Why did she do this to herself? Why did she do it to him? She knew it was wrong; she knew what the other gods and goddesses said about her. She knew it was impossible, that loving him was a fantasy.

It should never have happened. She shouldn't have come down.

They could never be, and it hurt.

"Please, Korra," he begged.

"…I can't."

And she was off, flying back into the heavens. The stars dripped past her, and the darkness swallowed her tears.

She wiped her eyes and made her way to the Mirror Pool, because even though she was so very far, she still couldn't take her eyes off him. She kneeled down and touched the water with a gentle nudge of her finger, the ripples extended to the edges of the pool, and he appeared before her.

He was laying on their hill, staring up at the clouds.

He was looking for her.

"I loved a human once." Korra turned and saw Aang, who was walking towards the pool. He sat next to her. "It was my biggest regret."

She understood. The pain was too much; part of her wishes that she had never met Mako, that she had never gone down to Earth.

"You regret falling in love with her?" Korra asked, watching Mako reach up with one hand, reach to the sky.

"No. I regret not doing everything in my power to be with my soulmate."

Korra looked at her fellow god then, really looked at him. It had been there for years, decades, hadn't it? She was the youngest goddess, yes, but she was as strong as the rest. She still could perceive the sadness, pure and painful, that lingered with him, with this immortal god whose only love had long since passed.

"You have a choice," he said.

Korra stared at Mako's reflection in the pool then. She remembered the first time she'd seen him, when he'd spotted her interfering with some humans when they'd attacked a shopkeeper. She remembered the way he performed in a probending match, the one she'd snuck into without the gods knowing. She remembered how his eyes seemed to gravitate towards her after he'd won, how he'd run out and found her afterward, how he asked for her name and how she somehow asked him on a date, because even though she knew it was a bad idea, it felt right.

She remembered the night they'd spent on that beach, staring up at her home in the stars; he was very calm when she confessed who, what she really was.

She remembered when he told her that he loved her, goddess or not.

She remembered realizing that she loved him too, human or not.

And she remembered the pain when she'd left, crisp, sharp. But it wasn't leaving him that hurt her. It was watching him hurt, watching his pain. That's what hurt her more than anything.

She had a choice.

"I give it up," she said. "I give up immortality. I give up my godhood."

She saw the flash of Aang's smile, knowing and sure, and suddenly she was falling back to the earth, falling through the cosmos, through the clouds. She twisted her body so she could watch for her landing, and it felt different. Her body was heavy, now. There was an unfamiliar, foreign pounding deep in her chest. What was happening?

She arched her back and looked down. She was speeding up, gravity pulling her down to her fate. Mako was still there, waiting for her on the hill, on their hill.

He saw her break through the clouds. He saw her falling.

"Korra!"

He ran.

"Mako, don't!" she screamed, because she was going to kill him. No, he couldn't… no!

But he ignored her, extending his arms, legs flying beneath him as he tried to meet her. Then, all the heaviness left, her descent slowed and she felt the gentle touch of a god on her spirit.

She sank into Mako's arms, and he set her down in front of him.

He stood firm, strong, alive.

"You caught me," she said, surprised.

"Of course I did."

Her hand reached out hesitantly to his face, fingers shaking. His eyes closed. If he was alive, that meant… that meant she wasn't a goddess anymore… she wasn't immortal… she could touch him. She could touch him!

She reached for him softly, stroking his cheek, fingers tracing the line of his jaw from his ear to his chin. His skin was smooth. He opened his eyes and inhaled sharply.

"Mako…" she said, and his lips were on hers, warm and wonderful. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her off the ground, held her close to him. She didn't want him to ever let go. Her lips opened up instinctively, and she drank him in.

He was hers now, fully hers.

She'd felt many things in her life, many amazing things. She'd felt stars tremble before their lights snuffed out. She'd felt rainbows explode in the sky. But she'd never felt a kiss before, a kiss from her love, her human soulmate.

It took her mortal breath away.


	2. Noir

The Avatar was in his crosshairs.

Finally.

Mako crouched, staring at her from the rooftop across the street, watching his target through the slit in her blinds as she prepared her bath. Korra padded around her bathroom, bending over to turn off the faucet, and he watched the blue silk of her kimono robe slide over her body as she moved. She stood up again and lit the last of the candles that lined the edge of the tub, the flames flickering happily in the dark room. The glow lit up her face, the shadows dancing their way onto her features.

He would shoot her when she laid down in the water, when she relaxed in the bath, when she sank into the bubbles. He'd kill her.

It was an easier clean-up.

One of her fingers grazed the top of the bath, and she cut a path through the bubbles. It was the very picture of a romantic evening, but he knew she was alone. She was always alone.

He'd been following her for days, observing her for days, so he knew.

It didn't seem like she would be the Avatar, but after days of observation and days of research and years of stories told about her, he was sure. He couldn't forget, could never forget the stories for they were so often shared in seedy bars with hints of bitterness and regret and hatred. Their city had no need for her.

People had long since lost faith in the Avatar, but they had not yet lost belief. The bounty on her head was huge, an unbelievable sum of yuans, and Mako needed and craved that money. He needed it to take care of Bolin; they'd be set for years, for decades.

It was his biggest hit yet, and he licked his lips with anticipation and greed.

He ignored the pricks of rain on his cheeks.

Korra stood with her back to him, and he watched as her weight shifted to one hip. She'd taken out her metal hairpieces, the ones he'd seen her wear almost constantly. He stared as her hands moved up to her waist and fumbled with the ties, and the robe was slipping slowly off her shoulders, slowly, slowly, and the muscles of her back were smooth and strong, shifting under her skin as she shrugged the robe off. It fell to her feet in a puddle. His eyes drifted down, staring at the dimples in her lower back, at the smooth, round curve of her ass. He bit his bottom lip.

Korra approached the bath hesitantly, and shivered as the cold air finally hit her naked body. Her nipples were hard. She stepped forward and dipped in a toe, and the bubbles undulated. Then, all of the sudden, she hit her forehead with the heel of her hand, as if she were chastising herself for forgetting something. Mako'd noticed she hadn't gotten a towel… not that she'd need one.

She walked back out, leaving his sight. Her other window's blinds were down, so he kept his focus on the bathroom, waiting for her return, and his mind began to wander once more.

Some of the stories were hard to forget, the ones that Shin and Zolt had told him in annoyed whispers on those cold nights. For some reason, Mako was remembering when she'd saved him from Equalists. How she'd come in and taken them down without meeting his eye once.

He'd never told anybody about that.

Not even Bolin.

It was a bit of a shame that he had to kill her. She was very beautiful and… If he had the chance, maybe he'd—

"Drop it, chump."

The familiar feel of a muzzle pressing into the back of his head registered in his brain. It was death, cool and ready. He'd known the feeling before, heard its voice calling his name before, but he'd never been so surprised by its whisper. He closed his eyes and dropped his sniper rifle; it clattered as it hit the rooftop.

She'd gotten him.

"Now turn around," she commanded, and he obeyed. He turned, and the gun she carried brushed against his hair as she held steady. The Avatar kept her distance, an arms-length away, as she steadied her revolver against his forehead.

He couldn't help but notice her outfit, for there wasn't much of one. Her breasts were threatening to spill out the middle of her trench coat. She was barefoot, and most certainly naked beneath the coat.

Mako smiled. This girl was full of surprises. And here he was, thinking he'd had her pinned.

"Hello there," she said, smirking. He couldn't bend down to get his gun; she'd kill him before that. All he could do was talk. Talk and watch.

"Hello, Avatar Korra."

"You know my name then, I see? I figured as much. But you'd think that since you're the one with a gun to his head, you'd be wanting to tell me yours."

He groaned and looked to the ground, looking at her feet before meeting her eyes once more. "My name is Lee."

She rolled her eyes. "Your real name, bud."

"Mako." He didn't know why he did it. His name fell from his mouth before he could catch himself, but there was something about her, that confidence that she exuded that forced him to obey.

"Mako, eh?" She tapped his forehead with the revolver. "You're a pretty good tracker. I'm impressed. Nobody's managed to find my apartment before." She placed one hand on her hip, and he pondered when she'd discovered that he was tracking her; if she'd been able to sneak up on him, she was a lot better than he'd originally thought. She'd probably known days ago.

"I didn't shoot you, though."

"As if I'd have let you."

"What do you mean?"

"I've been hunted my whole life; you think I'm gonna let some city boy like you kill me that easily?"

What had given him away? "How did you know?"

"Avatar's intuition," she teased. "You also didn't miss your step like I did when you were following me down that alley the other day. I heard a footstep. Big mistake."

He'd been following so far behind. It was amazing that she could sense him.

"You're pretty impressive yourself, you know. Sneaking up on me like that."

"My bounty isn't that number for any ole reason." She smirked. "I do have one question for you, though."

"Shoot." He stifled a chuckle at his joke.

"Did you enjoy the free show?" Her eyes were lustful then, which surprised him.

"Very much so." She laughed then, genuine and pure. Her hair was sticking to her face.

"I'm glad you're having fun, too."

His eyes focused on the revolver. "Fun?"

"If I'm going to have such a skilled hit man after me—" She grabbed his red tie, yanking him close to her, close enough that he could feel the heat coming off her. Her revolver had fallen to her side. "—I may as well make this a little more interesting."

Her mouth was on his then, pressing hard, slightly open as she sucked his bottom lip. It burned like a fire, intoxicating and overpowering and freeing all at once. And Mako couldn't help himself. He leaned into the kiss, slipping his tongue in her mouth, swallowing the moan that rose from her throat, thick and hot and heavy.

His hands drifted, gliding down her side to her back and down, squeezing through the coat. Her cold fingers pulled his hair, pushing his head closer for one last kiss. She breathed and pulled away.

Her expression had changed.

It was no longer angry or confident or lustful.

It was lonely.

And just a little bit sad.

It lasted not even a moment, and before he could speak, she was grinning once more. "See you 'round, hotshot," she whispered before slamming the butt of her revolver against his head.

The world faded, cold, black.

He could still taste her on his tongue.


	3. Genderbender

Mako enjoyed being in the kitchen. He'd become comfortable there. Every night he stood over that stove, making komodo chicken stir fry or roast vegetables or sticky buns or any number of things, and for a long time, he'd been indifferent to it all. He had to eat and Bolin had to eat, so he had to cook. Maybe it was when he and Korra moved in together, when he learned what foods she loved and which ones made her cringe and which ones made her clothes come off, that he started enjoying it.

Yeah, that might have been it.

He was in the kitchen now, scraping the inside of a bowl as he folded the batter, the smooth, dark brown batter. It had just the right smell of cocoa, just the right sheen. He had the cake recipe memorized, after all.

"Hey," Korra said, approaching him. She bumped her hip against his. "What are you making?" She bumped him again and he lost his footing this time, catching himself. "Ooh, dessert!" And before she could stop him, she'd dipped her finger in, scooping out a bit of batter before popping it into her mouth.

Mako rolled his eyes. "How many times have I told you not to eat raw batter?"

"Too many." She laughed, leaning her head against his arm, sucking on her finger. She hummed a little as she walked behind him. He poured the batter into the pan, opened the oven door, and pushed it inside. He grabbed the bowl of frosting and continued whipping it higher, lighter, fluffier. She continued. "You're such a good cook, you know that? Even if it is kinda girly."

"…Excuse me?" he said. "What do you mean 'girly'?"

Her arms wrapped around his waist from behind, her hands locked, and he felt her face pressed against his back. Her voice was muffled as she spoke into his shirt. "Baking?"

"What!"

"Well, even if you are a bit girly, that's just the way I like you. I like you cooking."

He turned then and looked down at her. Korra was grinning up at him, her chin on his chest. His arms made their way around her as well.

"You're just saying that because you can't cook at all."

"Maybe, maybe not."

He smirked and curved his neck down for a kiss. She stood on her toes to meet his lips. She tasted like chocolate. "Be honest," he said, holding her tight.

She laughed, sneaking a finger into the bowl of frosting and wiping it onto his cheek. "Nope!"

"C'mon, Korra." He grinned.

"You're just…" she began, averting her eyes. Then she stood on her toes once more, kissing the frosting off his face, her tongue licking his skin. "You just look really sexy when you're cooking, okay?"

He couldn't help but laugh then, and she tried to twist away, tried to hide her flushed cheeks, but he wouldn't let her. She was far too cute when she was embarrassed. So he pulled her closer and lifted her off the ground, holding her tight in his arms and he kissed her again, kissed her cheek, kissed her neck, kissed her lips.

She was hesitant at first, but soon her legs wrapped around his hips and they were tumbling to the ground, rolling over the floor and tangling up in each other. They laughed as they kissed, Korra pinning him down, running her fingers through his hair, sighing when he sucked on her neck.

He did not notice that the cake was burning.

And really, he didn't care.


	4. Crossover

Katara was dying.

Korra's hands glowed, and the blue-lit water ran over Katara's stomach, up to her chest. Korra's eyes were closed as she tried to sense the damage, the very spot where Katara needed to be healed, but she couldn't see it. She couldn't see it because it was everywhere. It had come in and taken over Katara's body, taken over her limbs and lungs and life.

Katara had healed her so many times. All the cuts and scrapes and bruises and broken bones that she'd suffered during all her years of training… Katara had taken them away. So why couldn't Korra do this one thing for her?

She adjusted her position and moved her healing back down. Korra was biting her lip. She did this was she was scared, and she was terrified.

Terrified.

Korra felt a familiar presence. Her eyes flicked up, her hands still occupied, and she saw Mako leaning against the room's entrance, arms crossed, frown set. Before Korra could turn back, she felt a worn, shaking hand on her forearm.

"Stop," Katara said, voice hushed and pained. "It's time."

"But—"

"We've already said our goodbyes, Korra."

Korra shoulders fell, and her body tried to cave in on itself. They had. They'd already said goodbye. She was just being stubborn, and she knew it, too. Katara moved her hand down Korra's arm and grabbed her hand. Her grip was weak.

"Thank you for being here," she murmured. "I'm so glad I was able to have my family here for my passing."

Korra felt her throat constrict, and she gave Katara's hand a squeeze. None of Katara's children were able to make it in time. Korra and Mako had been in the southern region of the Earth Kingdom, so it was luck, really, luck that she could say goodbye to her other mother, the woman who'd guided her and picked her up so many times, for so many years.

She'd learned from the best.

She couldn't… no…

"Please, let me try again," Korra begged, already bending up some of the water from the bucket that sat at her feet. "I can save you! I can… I can!" Her voice cracked.

"No, Korra. It's time for me to cross over. I've been waiting a long time."

The water splashed back into the bucket.

Katara was so calm, despite the trembling hands and labored breaths. Despite the death creeping in and taking over, she was calm. She coughed then, coughed blood, and Korra took a rag and wordlessly wiped it from her chin.

Her own hands were shaking.

"I need to cross over. He's… waiting for me. He's been waiting… for me." Every time she spoke, her face constricted in pain. Her breaths between words were heavy and shallow all at once.

Korra blinked the blurriness from her sight, and she felt the tears run down her face. She pushed back a bit of hair from Katara's face and squeezed her hand once more.

She owed her so much.

"Thank you, Master Katara."

"No… thank… tha…"

Korra swore she could see Katara's breath leave, swore she could feel her soul flutter out of her body as she died. She knew that her own breath had left her body, that her own soul ached. But at the same time it didn't. There was a warmth, like a candle in a dark room, in the deepest corners of her spirit. There was joy inside her, hidden inside her.

Katara was gone.

Korra closed her eyes, and Katara's limp hand, her still warm hand, dropped from her hold. She breathed in, breathed out, and crumpled to the floor. The chair she'd been sitting on fell back behind her with a clatter. Her hands, her healer's hands, rested uselessly in her lap.

It was her first time… her first time losing someone that she loved. And it felt so foreign to her. Korra had always been able to stop anything she wanted to. Ruthless gang members, corrupted politicians… she'd run in fists flying and fire blazing, and she'd stop them. But no matter how hard she tried… she couldn't stop this. The realization hit Korra and constricted around her heart. It was the only thing she couldn't stop. She couldn't stop death; she couldn't stop time.

She just couldn't. Not for Katara, not for anyone.

"Korra…" Mako said from behind her. He'd been there the whole time, watching and waiting the whole time.

He knelt down at her side, arms wide. Her eyes were sad as she looked up at him, and she was flinging herself onto him then, because she couldn't do this alone. The crying began then, ripping out of her throat with a scream. It was like everything was changing, her world was collapsing and rebuilding itself all at once.

His arms were strong, like always, strong and warm and wonderful as he held her, pulling her into him. She sat in his lap, shaking with the sobs that racked her body, with the tears streaming down her cheeks, dripping down into her mouth, soaking his shirt, and he held her so hard. So hard.

"I'm here, Korra, I'm here. I'll always be here."

But he wouldn't, would he?

He wouldn't always be there.

Her fingers grabbed the back of his shirt, clinging to him, wanting him and needing him forever. But one day, he'd leave her. One day, she'd be left alone, alone like Katara, and one day Korra would be the one waiting, wishing for her own crossover into the spirit world.

It wasn't fair, she thought, that someone could find their soulmate and have them ripped away like that, like Aang had been ripped away from Katara. She'd seen her eyes whenever Katara had been reminded of her love, of her one and only. Korra had seen the wanting, the longing, the missing, the pain.

And it wasn't fair.

Mako would be taken from her one day, and Korra wouldn't be able to stop it.

"Mako," Korra mumbled against his shoulder. He stroked her hair. "I don't want to be left alone."

"I'm here," he repeated.

"…Which of us will die first?" she asked. There was a pause in his movements, brief and hesitant, and his hand rested on the back of her neck before starting up its soothing motion again.

"I don't know."

"It's scary, isn't it? Not knowing?"

She felt him nodding.

"I do know one thing, though," he said.

"What?"

"We can't change fate. We can't."

"I know… I know."

Mako put his hands on the sides of Korra's face then, wiping her cheeks with his thumbs. His eyes were full, full of sadness and tears. For Katara, for Korra, his soulmate.

"I love you so much."

The joy throbbed in her chest once more, trying to break through the pain and sadness and the fear, because they were finally together again. Finally together.

After so many years apart.

Korra took a deep breath, and stared into Mako's eyes. He was her soulmate. She knew. And the day would come when they had to part, when Korra would be left waiting. And it wasn't fair, it wasn't… but at least… at least she knew who'd be waiting for her on the other side.

"I love you, too."


	5. Damage

"I killed a man today."

Mako's knees were shaking as he told her this, for she'd asked how his day had gone. Her eyes filled with concern, but he could not see them. He stared at the floor. She sat down at his feet.

"What happened?" she asked, placing a hand on his knee. It trembled slightly before calming under her touch, gentle yet strong. He breathed.

"He was a wanted man and a threat… he was endangering a fellow officer, I… it's what I was supposed to do."

Her face pressed against his leg.

He glanced down at his hands, at his fingers where the lightning from where the lightning had generated. He'd done the right thing, he had.

But if it was what he was supposed to do… why did he feel so horrible? Why could he not shut his mind off, why did he keep having to think of him, of the man who had killed his parents with fire?

Why could he not stop thinking of the look on Bolin's face when he'd told him that their parents had been killed by a firebender?

Why could he not stop thinking about the fear he'd had that night and for weeks, months, after, constant and real, of his own bending?

Mako closed his eyes. Korra's voice was hesitant and quiet, because she could alone see his heart. She'd seen the invisible scars, heard the nightmares of that night that haunted him, that night from so long ago. She knew what he was thinking, so she was quiet.

"I'm sorry."

-

-

"Looks pretty bad, doesn't it?" she said, laughing.

Korra held her hand out towards Mako. It was swelling, two of its fingers were angled in ways that they most certainly shouldn't be angled, and there was a light tint of a bruise coming in. It was very much broken.

"Korra," Mako said with a scowl as he leaned to take a closer look, "What were you thinking?"

She hadn't been, really. She'd just been mad that the perp had gotten away from her, and she never let that happen. Korra wasn't really mad at the crook; she was mad at herself.

"At least I gave him a good beating before he snuck away from me," she said. "He'll think twice next time he wants to mess with me!"

Mako rested her hand on his leg as he began to wrap it up with a makeshift splint. It was a temporary fix until they could get her to a healer, for it was too painful for her to heal herself.

"Ow," she complained as he adjusted her hand in his own, running the bandage up her wrist. "That hurts!"

"You're the one who punched a wall!"

She pouted. "It still hurts."

Mako rolled his eyes but still held her broken hand tenderly in his own. That pout always got to him. Always. So his lips fell on each of her knuckles, just the brush of a kiss, one by one by one.

"I'm sorry."

-

-

Korra's chest heaved, a drip of sweat rolling down her. Mako smirked at her, convinced that he'd won. But the fire was still there, burning under her skin, lighting her eyes with its desire, hot and ready.

She shoved him back against the wall, mouth on his, her tongue lining his bottom lip before she bit it, hard. She felt his smile beneath the kiss, his silent laughter.

Her hands reached for his shirt, tugging and yanking it impatiently over his head.

Mako took the opportunity and twisted, forcing her against the wall now, his lips on her jawline, her neck, her collar bone, then back to her lips. His hand traveled down, lingering, teasing. Her hands, however, reached up behind him, nails raking down his back with anticipation and greed as he pressed his tongue against hers.

A groaning cry fell from his mouth into Korra's.

Eyes wide, she pulled away. She'd gotten too excited.

Almost instantly, she looked behind him, fingers now gently tracing over the scratched, reddened paths that she'd created with her fingernails.

"I'm sorry!" she said.

He grinned.

"Don't be."


	6. Balance

Korra was flying.

Well, kind of. Flying _was_ the sensation she was experiencing, more or less, with her arms outstretched and her legs straight behind her, high off the ground. Her hip bones were being supported by Mako's feet, and his arms were also spread out at his side. resting on the floor. She wasn't even airbending, and she still felt like she was flying, especially if she closed her eyes.

She didn't want to though. She didn't want to close her eyes; all Korra was able to do was stare at Mako, stare at him staring at her as they steadied each other, balanced each other.

She breathed deeply, the relaxation and calm filling her, and still he held her high.

"This will help," she had told him.

"Help what?" he groaned.

"I dunno… it's supposed to help clear your mind, or something like that."

It had seemed a silly thing at first; it was just something that Tenzin had taught Korra during airbending training. He'd told her that yoga was a good tool when she was getting too heated, too impatient, when she needed to just slow down so she could see the bigger picture.

And lately, she'd been getting all too heated with Mako.

They argued all the time; their time apart from each other was causing far more harm than good, and she found herself snapping at every little thing. The hurt in his eyes wasn't satisfying in the least. It lingered there still, now, as she looked at him. But there was love there too.

There was love.

Korra felt it, raw, real, ready.

There was no space for arguing, not when they were always apart. Not in their positions. There was no room for something so trivial when their lives were both constantly on the line.

Korra lost her balance and she was falling then, closing the space, crashing down and catching herself before she hit him too hard. He still caught her, of course. Her weight pressed on him, and she felt his arms tighten.

She kissed his cheek, and he smiled.

There was no space for such things.


	7. Ever After

The spirit world was a strange place.

It was full of mysteries and truths, haunted spirits and weary ghosts and lives upon lives upon lives. It was a parallel in its own way, for in some sense, it was the world that could have been. There were streams and doorways and forests and mirrors and anger at all that had been destroyed, pride at that which humankind had accomplished, shame at what had been wasted.

Many spirits had been human, after all, and emotions ran free in the spirit world.

However, there were not just humans that existed here. There were also animal spirits and plant spirits and earth spirits and star spirits. Mothers, fathers, creators. Fate. There was also beauty here, a beauty that would have taken Mako's breath away, had he any breath left to take.

He could breathe no longer, though, for he was dead.

He was laying in a meadow of primrose, limbs sprawled out and eyes shut to the light. He seemed drawn to this place, and while he had seen much of the spirit world, he kept returning to this spot. It felt like home in a way, like this was where he needed to be.

His mind wandered.

It did this often, for all he had left was his thoughts and a longing for her, a longing for a movement and circulation in the cosmos to set him free, but no. He was trapped in a state of limbo, almost, as he waited for time. He waited for time to pass, to be, to disappear.

Mako waited.

Not only was the world different, but time was different here as well, or, at the very least, it felt different. Time was excruciatingly slow and unbelievably fast, never yet always constant. He had no idea how long he'd been waiting in the spirit world. Centuries and seconds were all the same, and frankly, those words no longer existed.

Eternity was a construct, a set of tiny moments woven together. Or was it the opposite? Was time simply one moment made of eternities?

Mako wasn't sure. His merely human spirit had no access to such knowledge. That did not mean he stopped trying to understand, however.

Mako could explore the past, and that was something he did often. He relived pieces of his life, saw the happiness and the fullness and the victories he had taken. Sometimes, this made the wait easier. Other times it didn't. He had regrets sprinkled throughout his life. He saw sorrow. Pain.

It was strange, at times, being able to see himself. He could watch himself as a child, or as an old man. Both were strange, for his younger, fit body had returned to him in his death.

Mako opened his eyes and held a hand up. His forearm was strong and scarless, the muscles shifting beneath his skin as he moved his wrist. He sat up, touching the flowers, feeling their petals, soft and silent, on his fingertips. The sky was purple.

Mako could also observe the present, if he so desired.

While Korra had once explained the sensation that she experienced when she left her body to observe a different part of the world, or the feeling she got when something terrible was happening and she saw a vision behind her eyelids, that still didn't make sense to Mako. He saw things differently. He could see the present, yes, but he had to find a pool somewhere in the spirit world. From there, the rippling mirror could show him what he wished to see.

He liked to watch his grandchildren from time to time. His nieces and nephews. His daughter, of course.

And Korra.

He often watched her as she lived without him. It hurt though. She was very sad, and he could do nothing but wait.

He missed her.

So he lived mostly in the past and drifted through the spirit world in his present, sometimes taking a peek at the mortal world. Many things happened in his own world, though. He spoke with spirits. He traveled.

He'd reunited with his parents once. They'd told him how proud of him they were. Mako hadn't noticed until this point that there could be tears in the spirit world. With his mother in his embrace, and his father's arms around them both, Mako had realized that he was very happy here.

Sometimes he met up with them so they could watch Bolin together, and he enjoyed that very much too.

It still wasn't complete, though.

Korra wasn't here. She wasn't here with him.

And because of this, or so he thought, he was often lost in his past, craving her like he'd never craved her before. He let his emotions and memories carry him when he closed his eyes and relived it all.

Mako stood in the meadow and began to walk, the primrose rustling with each footfall. He approached a nearby stream, flowing clear and clean. He kneeled and dipped a hand in. It felt empty. Most things felt empty to him without her at his side.

When had he realized that she was his everything?

His forever?

There were too many moments, too many eternities. He closed his eyes, and they came to him.

"So you do like me?" she asked hesitantly.

"Yes, but, I like Asami, too. I don't know, things are complicated. But I'm feeling really confused and—"

Her lips were on his, and his eyes widened with shock.

He was standing close to Tenzin then, tapping his foot on the ground. Bolin fidgeted next to him, and he elbowed Mako in the side. He looked up, and there she was, there was his bride, beautiful and incredible and radiant.

There was starlight in her hair.

It snowed on their wedding day.

But Korra was yelling at him then and he was yelling at her about who-knows-what but they were constantly fighting these days—

No, wait, he was in the South Pole again, running out after her, the snow crunching beneath his feet because he had to let her know that he was there for her.

"I love you, Korra," he confessed.

And he was holding Reika in his arms, his beautiful daughter wrapped up in his scarf.

"She's perfect," Korra said, resting her head on his shoulder.

"She is. She really is."

Reika was running up to him, a smile on her face.

"We talked about you and mommy in school today, Daddy!"

Somehow they'd made it into the history books.

"Look, I really like you and think we were meant for each other!" she was saying, and his heart was pounding as he lied to her.

And his heart was still pounding because he was trying to propose, but she didn't believe him, even with the ring in his hand.

"Look, I really like you and think we were meant for each other!" he said, and she just laughed and kissed him.

They were meant for each other.

So why were they apart?

Mako's eyes opened, and he was back in the spirit world, back at the stream. The water flowed between his fingers. His chest was hurting once more. He wanted the pain, maybe, the pain of the memories, of reliving it all with her because she wasn't here now but she'd been with him then. He wanted her. Her.

And it took death for him to fully realize the ache of missing her, of the hollow suffering that filled him when he thought of her and when he did not think of her. He'd watch her, of course, but it was never the same. He could not really see her, and he certainly could not touch her. His spirit could not return to the mortal realm, and even if he could, he would be only a whisper of a man.

He still had his memories, though.

He still had each contour of her face memorized in his fingertips.

He still had the smell of her skin pressed against his in the morning.

He still had her laugh ringing in his ears.

He still had her kiss on his lips, the taste of her on his tongue.

He waited as he had been for moments and for eternities and the moon danced in the scarlet sky.

Mako moved his hand in the stream once more, but it strangely didn't feel empty any more. It felt like it was changing, like there was life running through it, like it was filling him and moving time and shifting the stars, like it was all falling back into place once more.

There was a blue light that came from behind him, from the primrose meadow.

And there was a warmth.

He turned but was forced to hide his eyes behind his arm; it was too bright. The light faded, and he blinked.

"…Mako?" she said, voice quiet and unsure.

She'd died.

She'd died and come to him, finally, finally. It was like a dream, and Korra must have been thinking the same thing.

So he stood wordlessly and looked at her, at his best friend and wife and soulmate and forever, and he nodded.

Korra was running to him, hair flying behind her, and he was running to her, and she was in his arms, spinning in the air, laughing and crying. She slid down his front, standing on top of his feet, and he held her face in his hands.

She was beautiful.

She was here.

The spirit world was a strange place. It had made him forget time and lose himself in memories. He could have sworn he remembered her perfectly, and maybe he did, and maybe this was just the spirit world or maybe this was the craving or maybe this was just fate…

But her eyes looked brighter than before. Her touch on his skin was stronger than before. And her lips were sweeter than before.

He tasted them now when he bent down to kiss her, to drink her, to love her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled and they were falling down, rolling in the flowers, surrounded by eternal love. When she broke the kiss, her hand found his, and nothing had ever felt so right.

Nothing.

"I missed you," he said simply, and she smiled before kissing him once more.

She was his.

He was hers.

Ever after.


End file.
